


Substitute for love

by TheFierceBeast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blindfolds, Humiliation kink, Leather Jackets, Leather Kink, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Scent Kink, restrained wrists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFierceBeast/pseuds/TheFierceBeast
Summary: Written for a prompt years ago. See end notes for original prompt.He'll do anything for Remus.





	Substitute for love

The blindfold just heightens his other senses.

Finally a few moments for them to be completely alone and uninterrupted, a rare thing in these troubled times. Being discreet is an effort, other people must surely notice them, the looks they exchange, the glances held seconds too long. It’s torture, but exquisite torture and Lupin has been waiting so very long for this to happen again, the brush of his own eyelashes against the back of the scarf tied over his eyes (that smells of Sirius, his scent) the beat of warmth and coal smell of the fire and the subdued drum of rain against the casement windows.

His nerves are alight, he wants, he needs... a little hitching grunt of pleasure at Lupin’s blindly exploring hands, the intake of breath that precedes speech; Lupin says, “Shhh, Sirius, don’t speak,” and his love is indulgently silent, just this, just the crackle of the fire and the patter of the rain and their own breathless, hungry hands.

The leather under Lupin’s palms is butter-soft, aged and worn so much it’s almost like skin, the familiar feel of it, the scrape of a zip across the back of his wrist and Lupin slides his hands under the jacket, feeling for warm, smooth skin. The white cotton t-shirt is thin and soft beneath Lupin’s roaming hands, cotton stretched tight over flat, starved planes and Lupin brushes a thumb over one nipple, feels it harden beneath the thin fabric and does it again, revelling in the response.

He knows he’s being indulged. He knows, as he lays his beloved compliantly back on the shabby, velvet couch, that this does not come easily to the man beneath him. Pride. _He does it for love._ Next time, it’ll be Lupin on his back, blindfold and gasping: the thought makes him so hard he’s dizzy. Burying his face in the soft, black leather of Sirius’ jacket Lupin inhales that gorgeous, familiar scent and he doesn’t even wish he could watch, not really – it’s better this way; being unable to see he can feel so much more – but in his mind he pictures those grey eyes as he winds his fingers through long, dark hair and his beloved’s lips open eagerly beneath his own...

*

It’s not easy, on these terms, but he loves Lupin so much that he’ll take it any way he can – snatched moments when backs are turned, trysts and secrets and fast, desperate fucks over the kitchen table at the Shack. He’s not a submissive man by nature; he just can’t say no to his wolf, is bound to him invisibly but so tangibly, acceding to whatever Lupin desires. _I made a promise, on my life, I swore I’d protect you. Anything, I’ll do anything to see you happy..._

Now, they both struggle out of their clothes with clumsy eagerness, “Leave the jacket on,” Lupin orders, in a tone pitched just pleading enough to twist his heart, so he does of course and feels foolish for only as long as it takes for Lupin’s practised hands to slide over his hips, close around his cock and begin to stroke, just the way he needs it.

Speaking isn’t allowed, but noises are encouraged and he hates the way he sounds, so needy, those little choking _submissive_ sounds that come unwanted from his mouth as Lupin pushes his thighs apart, lips adoring at his throat. _This is what you reduce me to, your creature_ , but as much as he hates it, it feels too good, the delicious humiliation of being used in this way, the push and surrender of being taken.

He moans at the blunt intrusion as Lupin nudges inside him, sets up a shallow rhythm of thrusts, hands clenched around his wrists, pinning him. Lupin’s face, right now; it’s so perfect, so rapt, his mouth slightly open and gasping, drunk on the feel of it, _of him_ , his eyes - squeezed shut maybe behind his makeshift blindfold - surely showing the gold in their hazel.

And Lupin says, “Sirius,” his voice cracking, broken with desire as he shudders and releases, rutting inelegantly, coming to a gentle panting halt and relaxing against the warm body beneath him that tenses now too with a gasp and, breaking the no-speaking rule, Snape whispers, “Remus,” and wishes with all his heart that he’d been the one who’d died.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: “Harry Potter, Remus/Snape/(Sirius), Remus misses Sirius, but Snape is alive and warm, dubcon; up to you how it works out (eg. zombie or ghost Sirius threesome, polyjuiced Snape, possessed Snape, or wherever your imagination takes you).”


End file.
